Bad Days Gone Good
by brwneyes1324
Summary: The day Patrick Jane met his wife, just a little oneshot.


**Author's Note: Just a little random episode I kind of liked when it played in my overactive imagination.**

**Bad Days Gone Good**

The day Patrick Jane met his wife started out badly.

First, his car was towed. He had been performing his mentalist routine at a local club, the opening act for a minor celebrity comic. His sparkling blue eyes, charming smile and easy command of the stage had gotten him invited to an after party with the main act by the manager hungry for new blood. It didn't take Jane long to realize the manager was not very good, hence the main act being relegated to these second and third tier establishments when he should have been better placed given his talent. By the time Jane was able to leave, it was nearly 5 am and the street he had parked on had been cleared for annual street cleaning. His feet hurt, he was tired and he desperately needed a shower.

"Damn it," Jane muttered at the empty place his car should have been, and frowned as an ominous rumble echoed across the pre-dawn sky. "Great. Just great."

He started to jog toward the bus station, but was still too far away to avoid a drenching. He slipped into the bus shelter, soaking wet and starting to shiver, his blond hair plastered to his head. He pulled off his loose tie, wrung it out and was a little surprised at the amount of water it dumped on the floor. He shook his hair out, letting the natural curl he generally tried to keep smoothed down become an unruly halo. He sat down, oblivious to everything else, closed his eyes and longingly pictured the deep blue of the ocean and warmth of the sandy beaches where he grew up.

"Hey, there, cute blond guy," an amused female voice brought him back. "You are dripping onto my bag."

"What?" he said intelligently, and opened his eyes to meet a pair of bright light brown ones, long light brown hair in a long face sprinkled with freckles. Her smile was easy and open, and the amusement in her eyes accented the intelligence in her face.

"You are dripping water onto my bag," she repeated patiently. "And I can't move it because you are also stepping on the strap."

"Oh," Jane said stupidly, moving his foot and sitting up. Aside from an old man taking shelter in the corner, they were the only two people there. "I'm sorry, I'm a little tired."

"Mmm, I could tell," she said. "You fell asleep. Did you know you snore a little?" she teased. Patrick found himself genuinely smiling for the first time all night. She opened her bag, pulled out a book of music and shook the water off, smoothing the pages lovingly.

"You play?" Jane asked, his charming smile evident. She arched a well shaped eyebrow at him, and he could tell she thought he was hitting on her. He was, but he liked that she seemed to be laughing at him a little because of it.

"Yes, piano," she replied. "I'm working on my master's of music history."

"Let me guess," Jane said, narrowing his eyes slightly at her, "you like…..Chopin the best. You like the soft romance of his music."

She let out a startled laugh. "Yes, I do actually. Are you psychic or something?"

Jane chuckled himself. "Sometimes. Well, no, not really, I just play one on TV."

"You are on TV?" she asked, playing along but obviously not believing him.

"Well, no, I guess not. But I watch TV," Jane replied, turning to face her. She gave a soft laugh, her eyes twinkling.

"Well, Mr. Psychic man," she challenged, "tell me something more. Impress me."

Jane straightened at the challenge. "Well, what would you like to know? More about yourself?"

She laughed at him again. "No, silly, I already know everything about me. How about….that guy, there?" and she pointed at the sleeping homeless man at the other end.

"Oh, him?" Jane said, thoughtfully looking at the man, not bothering to keep the little smile off his face. He rubbed at the light stubble on his chin, catching her admiring gaze. He looked back his attractive challenger with a hint of admiration of his own in his face.

"He used to be a bank manager. Lost his job about 6 months when he started to drink after the divorce. He misses his kids, and doesn't like tomatoes," Jane said nonchalantly.

The woman widened her eyes in mock awe. "Ok, Mr. Psychic man. Let's find out," and went fearlessly over to talk to the sleeping bum. After a few minutes of quiet conversation, she handed the man a dollar, patted his shoulder and came back to Jane considerably less skeptical.

"Ok, how did you do that?" she demanded, impressed despite herself.

"I can't tell you," Jane replied, blue eyes twinkling in mischief. "The magic circle won't let me."

"Really," she said, dramatically widening her eyes in impish mockery. "Will they send a team of magical assassins to silence us both?"

"Yes," Jane said seriously. "It's the law."

He held her eyes and his serious expression for a moment, until they both burst out laughing. He finally held out his hand.

"I'm Patrick Jane," he said as the bus rolled up. "Can I take you for a coffee?"

"Only if you tell me how you knew all that stuff about that guy," she bartered.

"Deal," Jane said, and helped her up with a hand. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, and as he let her get on the bus first, he placed his hand lightly on the small of her back to guide her. She didn't move away, and patted the seat next to her when she sat down. "But I didn't catch your name."

"No, you didn't," she teased. "You are just going to have to work for that, Mr. Jane."

It took two hours before he won her name, and his bad day turned into one of the best he ever had.


End file.
